


I'm Just Sayin'

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Series: Song Inspired Fiction [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Episode Remix, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I Don't Even Know, M/M, No fucks are given, Probably ooc, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:39:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take from you? I've been taking from you?" he questioned incredulously, "Why the fuck do you think I married that bitch? Why the fuck do you think I did anything I did? It was for you. For you! All of it, everything I did, everything I'm still doing is for you!"<br/>     Ian dropped his hands to his sides, limp like a ragdoll. "I didn't ask you to," he said darkly.<br/>     "You didn't have to!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just Sayin'

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Fine by Me by Andy Grammer.
> 
> I promise this is happy, just suffer through the angst with me and we shall persevere. 
> 
> Oh, I also set this in the summertime because I can.

(You're not the type, type of girl to remain  
With the guy, with the guy too shy, too afraid  
To say he'll give his heart to you forever.  
I'm not the boy that will fall to his knees  
With the hands clasped tight,  
Begging, begging you please to stay with him forever.)

 

"Why don't we pick up where we left off?"  
Ian shrugged. "No, thanks."  
Mickey moaned in the back of his throat. "Hard to get's gettin' me hard, Gallagher."   
And everything after that was blur. Laying in his bed later- correction, curled up in his sleeping bag like the little bitch Terry always told him he was- he replayed the conversation. He didn't remember exactly what Gallagher had said; he just remembered the stabbing in his chest when he'd heard it.   
Army.   
Four years.   
Minimum.   
He remembered then that he'd made some bullshit comment, followed by a half-ass attempt to convey his feelings. And Mandy called him on it, telling him something he'd known all along: he was a pussy. A big one.   
Mickey shut his eyes and blew out a quiet breath. What was he supposed to do? He had a wife, for fuck's sake. And a baby on the way with his homophobic father eyeing his every move.   
"I didn't come here for you."  
Mickey rolled onto his stomach, squished his face into his pillow and pretended he was sleeping. 

 

(You, I could see.  
I could dream realistically.  
I knew that this was different from the start.  
And it seems like every time we're eye-to-eye,  
I can find another piece of you that I don't wanna lose.)

 

A shirtless, yawning Ian opened the door. "Mickey?" he asked quietly, stifling another yawn, "whatta doin' here?"  
"Needa talk to you," Mickey mumbled. He glanced up and down the dark street, around the porch. Anywhere but at Gallagher, who was rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. And Mickey absolutely did not think that was adorable. That word wasn't even in his vocabulary, so fuck you.   
"S'two in the morning, Mick. Can it wait?"  
"No. Now."  
Ian rolled his eyes. "I'm sleeping."  
Mickey eyed him. "Doesn't look like you're sleeping, Gallagher."  
"I was. Look, we're gonna wake up my family." He tossed a look over his shoulder.  
"So shut the door, shithead."  
Ian paused for a second. "I don't have a shirt on."  
Mickey felt like throwing his hands up at the absurdity of that, but he refrained. "Like you're gonna be bothering all the people on the street with your indecency? C'mon."   
Ian stepped out of his house, pulling the door behind him. "Where we going?"  
Mickey plopped down on the porch steps, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up. Ian sat next to him. Neither said anything until Mickey passed the cigarette over.  
"You wanted to talk?" Ian probed, and that tone was back, the one he'd been using ever since he found out Mickey was getting married.  
Mickey forced himself not to look at the redhead. He cleared his throat. "The fuck you going to the army for, man?"   
"You came over and woke me up to ask me that?" Ian handed him his cigarette back and stood. "Go home, Mick."  
"Will you just-" Mickey got up when he saw that Ian was going back inside. "Will you fucking listen to me?" He flicked the butt of his cigarette on the lawn.   
Ian swung around to face him, eyes wild with fury. "For what? So I'll stick around to watch you and your fucking whore and your baby be one big, happy family? So you can keep your best lay? So I can be another married man's dirty, little secret? So I can keep being your dirty, little secret?" Mickey didn't say anything. "Answer me!" Ian yelled, arms flung wide, "What the hell do I have to stay for? Is there something else you'd like to take from me? 'Cause I don't have anything left, Mickey!"  
Mickey snapped his head up, could feel his own anger rising. "Take from you? I've been taking from you?" he questioned incredulously, "Why the fuck do you think I married that bitch? Why the fuck do you think I did anything I did? It was for you. For you! All of it, everything I did, everything I'm still doing is for you!"  
Ian dropped his hands to his sides, limp like a ragdoll. "I didn't ask you to," he said darkly.  
"You didn't have to!"  
"So, sleeping with Angie, was that for me to?"  
"Are you still on that shit, Gallagher?" The words had a bite to them that Mickey didn't mean, that he had never meant, not with Ian. He wanted to pause everything and resins because this was not how he planned for this conversation to go. He had been prepared to have the exact conversation he'd been trying desperately to avoid. Another sacrifice for Ian. This one had felt bigger than the others somehow, though he couldn't explain why, but he had been ready. Until Ian started reminding him of all the reasons why Mickey should let him go. But Mickey was selfish. And, if he had anything to say about it, Gallagher was staying right here.   
"Are we done here?" Ian's voice launched Mickey out of his own head.   
"No," he said and put his hands on his hips resolutely, "Stay."  
Ian looked bored. "Is that all?" Mickey must have looked confused. "Really, Mick, is that your master plan: come here, yell at me and then demand that I give up my dream for you? Good one. How's it working out for you?"  
Mickey had never known Ian to be so cruel. "Not well," he admitted and sat back down on the step. He sighed. "Look, man. I didn't mean to yell at you. You're right. About everything. I... I'm sorry."  
Ian moved behind him, but Mickey didn't look to see what he was doing. "Did you just apologize?"  
Mickey chuckled and shrugged. "Looks like it."  
Ian sank down beside him reluctantly and stared at Mickey's face in the dim light from the streetlamps. "D'you mean it?"  
Mickey turned his head to look Ian in the eye as he nodded. Ian broke the gaze first, falling silent as he mulled over the Milkovich's sincerity. "M'sorry too," he said after a minute or two.  
Mickey shook his head. "No, don't be. You didn't say anything that wasn't true." They lapsed into silence again, the sounds of crickets surrounding them in the warm summer air. "Will you stay?" Mickey asked quietly after a minute.   
Ian bunched his lips as he exhaled. "Will you kiss me again?"   
And Mickey cracked a smile, because that was as good as yes.

 

(But I don't wanna come on too strong.  
I'm just sayin',  
It's fine by me if you never leave.  
We can lay like this forever;  
It's fine by me.)

 

They were laying on Ian's bed in the middle of the day in the giddy aftermath of too many orgasms and too much weed. Ian was giggling at nothing like he did when he was wasted, and Mickey was trying- and failing- to be agitated.   
"Will you fuck off?" he grumbled, "you're ruining my high."  
"Am not," Ian argued, but he stopped laughing, keeping a huge grin on his face. Mickey closed his eyes, ready to drift off peacefully, when rolled over onto his stomach. "Hey, Mick?"  
"What?" he grunted out, eyes still shut.  
"You love me," Ian whispered knowingly, "don't you?"  
Mickey looked at Ian through a squinted eye for a second before shutting it again. "Fuck off," he said roughly.  
"Why can't you just say it?" Ian asked, but he didn't sound angry or accusatory, just curious.  
Mickey sighed and threw his arm over his eyes. "Look, Gallagher, all I'm gonna say is, if you wanna stick around 'til I die, that'd be alright."  
Ian snuggled into Mickey's chest. "Was already planning on it."


End file.
